


Giving it a go

by id_ten_it



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mystrade Monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_ten_it/pseuds/id_ten_it
Summary: For the Mystrade Monday prompt "Just smile. I really need you to smile right now."It's such a cliché: Husband and wife split. Wife gets new partner(s) and goes to social event. Husband goes to same event, desires to prove wife he is doing well.This story is that cliché, except Greg's date doesn't end up staying and he miraculously ends up in a car with Mycroft Holmes instead.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Giving it a go

It was a tale as old as time – or at least as old as formal ceremonies and awkward post-relationship emotions. Freshly separated, DI Lestrade was still expected at the gala for the charity that he had initially only become involved in because of his wife. It was too much to hope that she would give it a miss; he had it on good authority that her latest man would be dragged along as well. In an emotive response as old as the caveman, Greg impulsively asked Ian-from-work to go along and demonstrate that Greg’s life was, actually, quite excellent. Ian-from-work (DI Ian Roberts, Greg’s senior class at Hendon, friend/mentor at the Met) had agreed and at first glance appeared more than ready to present as a man madly in love with Greg.

Sadly, at second glance, he appeared more interested in staring over Greg’s shoulder at other men. Greg could hardly blame him, some of the people mingling in the ballroom were blimmin’ gorgeous. Still, it wasn’t exactly sending the right signals and _she_ had just entered the room.  
“C’mon mate” Greg attempted, shifting slightly, “give us a smile.” The smile that was forthcoming looked more like a pained grimace. Greg put on his best work voice and tried again. “I need you to smile, Ian”  
Ian had helped Greg with the voice, and barely glanced over to Greg before pointing out the delectable offerings in the room. “Let me know when she turns up. I’ll do the thing then might start over there. He is _gorgeous_.” Following his gaze, Greg smothered a laugh. Mycroft Holmes was indeed gorgeous, confident and competent, filling his suit perfectly and appearing perfectly at ease. “I’ll introduce you if you’ll just smile, you berk.”  
Finally – just as the critical moment approached, Ian looked into Greg’s eyes and smiled. They held a small conversation. They laughed gently together. Greg smiled a small, triumphant, smile at the thwarted woman stalking away from them. As soon as the need stopped, so did Ian. He couldn’t see Mycroft, but that didn’t stop him looking.  
Greg rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, and went to get them drinks.

It was obviously a more-than-usually-successful function, given the number of minor politicians and affluent businessmen. Greg would have felt more out of place if he hadn’t been expressly invited and had attended with a specific goal in mind. Now she had been put in her place, he was less concerned with that and more with having a good time. So he didn’t begrudge the people eager to talk as he came past, and provided detailed recruitment information for one man’s son and another’s daughter. All in all it took him enough time to get to the bar that Ian had probably given up and accepted more of the champagne that was floating around; Greg had a moment of panic when he turned around and couldn’t find his erstwhile partner.

He had a second moment of panic when an amused voice murmured, “I trust the man’s smile was good enough for an introduction?”  
“Mycroft!” Greg jumped about a foot, the wine only staying in the glasses because they were pretentiously large. “Were you lip-reading?” He added, blushing and squinting in what he hoped was a censorious fashion.  
“An unfortunate habit” Mycroft agreed, leaning past Greg to get his own glass of white, “was your deception successful?”  
“Looks like it. She hasn’t bothered me, she’s been over there sulking.”  
“I can’t imagine why” Mycroft’s voice was as dry as the wine he sipped, eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass. “I shouldn’t like to upset your partner, Gregory” he continued, “does he have some sort of favour to request?”  
“What? No!” Lowering his voice from loud surprise to reassurance, Greg explained, “Ian’s just a mate. I wanted to...well. Show off, I guess. So he came along to prove a point, and now that’s done he’d really appreciate you turning up with this wine.”  
Mycroft looked increasingly puzzled. Greg attempted to shed more light on the situation. “He reckons you’re fit, Holmes. Reckon he’s up for it if you are.” He trailed off at the look of confusion and discomfort on his companion’s face. “Sorry. I…he wouldn’t do anything if you weren’t interested. Neither of us would. S’not exactly cricket.”

There was an awkward pause as Mycroft inspected the inside of his glass, the ceiling tiles, Greg’s left ear. “He sounds very pleasant.” The taller man eventually hazarded, “and I suppose it would be churlish to stand here preventing you from keeping a promise.” He looked delighted at Greg’s laugh (and then annoyed at himself for being delighted), “Lay on, MacDuff.”  
“I always thought-“ Greg started, grinning into Mycroft’s warning frown and leading the way as though he weren’t internally exulting at the personable interaction.

When they approached Ian, he had obviously been entertaining himself with the abundant champagne. Just as obviously, he had found a group of people to entertain himself with, though he was clearly glad to see Mycroft and the glass of wine Greg provided. “Ian and I were senior and junior classes at Hendon.” Greg began as Ian abandoned the larger group, “Mycroft is Sherlock’s elder brother” he added to Ian, “he helps out sometimes, and is much less likely to end up in the cells.”  
“A pleasure” Mycroft intoned, flashing Ian his cordial work smile and shaking hands.  
“So what do you do, Mycroft?” Ian moved seamlessly into flirtation mode, and Greg smiled and slunk away. He moved too quickly to have noticed Mycroft’s desire for him to stay.

The gala was winding up, the band packing down, the caterers collecting leftovers and empties. Greg, deep in conversation with an economist and a border security officer about drug proliferation, allowed his empty glass to be taken with barely a distracted nod. Ian, well free from his deception now the ex-wife had left, was having another go with Mycroft. Mycroft – who smiled an approving smile at the waitress removing his own empty glass – sighed internally and wondered how a DI could be this dense. Not that it wasn’t flattering, but he had never been one for one-night stands and Ian wasn’t looking for much more.

“Interest you in another?” Ian smiled. Mycroft had to acknowledge he was good, holding eye contact for the perfect length of time, moving a little closer, utterly engaged. “Unfortunately not” deliberately shifting backwards, Mycroft hid a wince; his back was playing up again. “I have an early start tomorrow. Thank you for a lovely evening, however.”  
Ian had the good grace to appear regretful and not annoyed. “I’ll walk out with you” he offered, “Should probably be thinking of getting to bed too. Never know when the phone will ring.”  
“You must be glad to get an evening off” the taller man acknowledged, resigning himself to further small talk in the interests of pleasing Gregory’s friend.  
“Oh it’s not too bad really. Probably doesn’t help a marriage but that’s not such an issue for people like us, is it?” Ian’s grin was welcoming, offering more. Unfortunately for him, Mycroft wasn’t desperate enough to follow a man he felt no more than a vague interest in. “I wouldn’t know.”  
Ian paused by the door, serious in a way he hadn’t been all night. “I shan’t bother asking for your number. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”  
“Me too. I had a pleasant evening though, please don’t think otherwise.”  
“Pleasant but not great.” Ian noted, one lip turning up sadly, “Thanks all the same. Night, Mycroft.”  
“Good evening, Ian. Thank you for a pleasant evening.” Ian stepped out, buttoning his coat against the chill and stepping briskly to find a cab. Mycroft, unwilling to follow him and risk awkward smiles, lingered a moment in the doorway.

“Waiting for Ian?” Gregory’s question broke Mycroft’s consideration of the street outside, making him shake his head quickly. “He’s just left. I hope I didn’t make things awkward between you.”  
“He’s not my type.”  
“I didn’t mean that…” Mycroft looked up, finally seeing the humour in the other’s eyes and letting some tension go himself. “No doubt if the two of you were interested you would not have informed me of a subterfuge. Nevertheless, being turned down can have a poor effect on a man’s self esteem.”  
“He’s a nice guy” Greg tried, stepping closer, “But he and I aren’t like that. We’re good friends, that’s all.” Raising one eyebrow he added daringly, “He’d have been lucky to get you.”  
Mycroft dropped his gaze, pink flaring on his cheek bones. “One could say the same about you, Gregory” He murmured after a thick swallow, finger running lightly over his thumb.  
Greg huffed out a laugh, then dissolved into a proper chortle at his companion’s face. “I’m sorry!” He gasped, “I’m not laughing at you. Reckon s’the nicest thing a bloke’s ever said to me.”

Mycroft remained traitorously pink. “If you are not laughing at me…”  
“The whole situation. You’re nervous, I’m nervous, two of us standing here doling out compliments and scared of upsetting Ian – who’s long gone by now. It’s just a bit ridiculous.” Greg clarified, very gently reaching out and holding Mycroft’s thumb and fingers still. More quietly he added, “there now.”  
At the movement Mycroft had frozen, as though he weren’t sure what would happen next. When Greg met his eyes, they were warm and a little dazed, a man unused to gentleness being directed at him. “Then, Gregory, could I interest you in a nightcap? And dinner in...two days time? I know Monday is never ideal however I am unavoidably detained until then and afterwards does not bear thinking about.”  
“I’m free Monday.” With the cheeky grin his companion had long admired he added, “f’Il say yes to the drink do I get a ride in a fancy car?”  
“Audi or Bentley?”  
“How the hell am I supposed to choose? Bentley. But only if I get the Audi on Monday.”  
Mycroft briskly tapped on his screen for a moment, completing the task before glancing up to give Greg his full attention. “The Audi has considerably less space in the back seat.”  
Greg blushed, the suggestive tone filling his mind with images he hadn’t time to fully enjoy standing in semi-public. Mycroft’s rich chuckle didn’t do anything to help the situation, nor did his cool fingers gently shutting Greg’s jaw. “There now. Let us not put the cart before the horse. All in good time.”  
“I hope so.” Greg couldn’t – didn’t want to – break away from the heated gaze. They paused for a moment, letting the tension grow, before Greg gave it up for a bad job and kissed Mycroft right there in the foyer. It was hardly the sort of thing that could get them for indecency, but it left his breath singing and Mycroft flushed and as breathless as Greg.  
“The car has arrived” was all Mycroft said, turning and stalking towards the door. With his long jacket it was impossible to see more than the pure outline, suave and impressive. Sensing Gregory’s confusion he through an enticing look over his shoulder. “It’s a Bentley. I intend to show you the difference in seat room. Unless you’re not wanting that nightcap?”  
  



End file.
